Golden
by My Dear Professor McGonagall
Summary: Six oneshots of the cutest couples ever written on their golden anniversaries.
1. Molly and Arthur

30 June 2018

On their fiftieth wedding anniversary, Arthur and Molly were together in their chairs in the sitting room, smiling sleepily and holding hands as they recovered from the massive celebration Bill and Fleur had given them in the garden of the Burrow.

"Whew," Arthur said, turning to grin at her. "We're getting old, Moll. I don't even feel like staying up to watch the sun rise."

Molly chuckled. "We never even did that in our twenties," she said. "We had two babies in the house, remember?"

"Oh," Arthur said, frowning slightly. "That does sound familiar."

"Mad as a hatter," said Molly sympathetically, shaking her head.

"It's the loony bin for me," Arthur agreed sagely, closing his eyes and folding his hands over his stomach. Molly laughed again, and a comfortable silence fell.

"I got you something," Molly said quietly after a few moments, sitting forward. Arthur looked at her, frowning.

"We weren't going to—"

Molly pulled herself up from her rocking chair, going to the bookcase and looking for a specific volume. "I know, I know," she said. "But humor me. I wanted this for you."

Arthur sighed, shaking his head, but he smiled. "You didn't have to, Molly."

"I wanted to," she said again, finding the book she wanted. She grinned mischievously at him. "Close your eyes."

Arthur obeyed, still smiling. Molly took her present from the hollow book and set the little box in his lap. Arthur touched it, trying to find out what it was.

"All right," she said. "You can look."

Arthur opened his eyes. "M-M-Molly!" he stammered. "I-It's a plane! A model airplane!"

Molly laughed. "Happy anniversary, Arthur."

Arthur looked up at her, so utterly beside himself with excitement that Molly was having a hard time believing that fifty years had passed since the day they were married.

"Oh, Molly, _thank you_," he said joyously, standing up and kissing her. Molly laughed as he dipped her slightly. They straightened and she grinned at him, his arms tightly wrapped around her. "How did you get it?" Arthur asked, examining the brightly-colored box.

"I asked Harry to pick it up for me," Molly said, hugging him and resting her head against his chest. "He's better in the Muggle shops than I am. I've had it for weeks, I wanted to tell you so badly!"

"This is a fantastic surprise," Arthur promised, kissing her cheek, and Molly smiled, reaching up to gently rub his thin, whitened hair. She sighed happily.

"I'm glad you like it," she said, "but I'm exhausted. Are you ready for bed?"

"Er," Arthur said awkwardly. "I—er, I got you…something…" He blushed slightly. Molly's mouth fell open.

"Arthur," she said, only half reproving. She'd broken their deal as well, after all.

"Humor me," Arthur said with a twinkle in his eyes, and Molly chuckled. "Here, sit here," he said, guiding Molly to the sofa. They both sat down, facing each other. Arthur reached into his pocket.

"Close your eyes, Molly."

Molly did, and felt Arthur pull her right hand forward. She heard a slight jingling, and felt Arthur's fingers fumbling with something at her wrist. She had to force herself not to open her eyes.

"All right," Arthur said after a few moments.

Molly opened her eyes and gasped. Hanging from her wrist was a fine chain of braided silver links, interwoven and glittering. Molly squinted slightly, then reached for her glasses, dangling from a braided string around her neck and hurriedly put them on, examining the bracelet. Fused throughout the chain were about thirty small, beautiful, multicolored gemstones.

"Arthur," she said softly, feeling tears prick her eyes. "It's beautiful."

Arthur was beaming. He drew his wand and held out his hand for Molly's wrist. She frowned, but watched interestedly as Arthur tapped the bracelet once with his wand. "Now look closer," he said, and Molly brought the bracelet closer to her eyes.

"Oh my goodness," she said, astounded. Etched finely into the links surrounding each gemstone were names.

Two garnets: _Fleur_ and _Andromeda_. Two amethysts: _Arthur, Audrey_. One aquamarine: _Ron_. Two dark emeralds: _Victoire _and _Albus_. A moonstone: _Rose_. Two Rubies: _Louis_ and _Harry_. Three peridots: _Percy_, _Ginny_, and _Lucy_. Three sapphires: _Fred_, _Dominique_, and _Hermione_. A topaz: _Bill_, and three dark violet tanzanite stones: _Charlie, Roxanne, _and _James_.

Molly, blinking back tears, turned her wrist slightly to examine the largest cluster, five magenta tourmaline stones: _Angelina, Hugo, Lily, Molly, _and_ Molly_. And, near the emeralds and Ron's aquamarine, Molly saw three sparkling diamonds. _Teddy_. _George_. _Fred_.

Her breath caught, and she reached to delicately touch the diamonds. She looked up at Arthur, her lip quivering, and saw he was blinking rather rapidly.

Molly threw her arms about him and gave a little sob as he squeezed her tightly. "Arthur," she whispered. "It's wonderful. Thank you, sweetheart. Thank you so much. Happy anniversary."

"Happy anniversary, Molly," Arthur said, beaming at her. "Thank you for my airplane. I love you."

"I love you too, you old fool," Molly laughed, and she kissed him.

* * *

><p>YEEE! Welcome to a big "thank-you-for-being-an-awesome-reader-reviewer-FF-buddy" party for...NEVERBEENDARKMARKED! Everyone go check out her stuff. NOW. Finished? Impressed? Good. As well you should be. This is her thank-you for inspiring me to do another, happier Molly story. Also written for iDeathMonkey, *another* awesome readerreviewer, who told me I should make this story special because...DRUMROLL...

This is my fiftieth story! And it's been absolutely insane to have been doing all of this for the last six months. I've gotten some of the highest praise I can possibly imagine, I've made a few friends, and it's been so fantastically special to share my imagination with you. Thank you for not snubbing it. I really do love you all.

Anyway, about this story. "Golden," for the golden anniversary, the fiftieth. I have stories (about 1000 words apiece, maybe less) for my super special Weasley/Potter couples: Molly and Arthur, Bill and Fleur, Percy and Audrey, Ginny and Harry, Ron and Hermione, and George and Angelina, and each takes place on their fiftieth anniversary.

Originally, it was going to be Fifty Fiftieth Anniversaries, but THERE ARE NOT THAT MANY CANON COUPLES IN THIS UNIVERSE, and I was NOT about to write about the Malfoys' fiftieth anniversary. So now it's just the Weasley/Potter Fiftieth Anniversaries, otherwise known as: Golden.

I think it's going to be a loverly couple of days, don't you? One per day, as usual.

Love,

Lucy


	2. Fleur and Bill

1 August 2047

For their entire marriage, Fleur knew that full moons caused Bill immense pain. He became withdrawn and tired, and Fleur would often wake in the middle of the night to find him gone from their bed, standing out by the shore or simply on the lawn, gazing up at the moon.

Now that he was nearing eighty years old, though, the full moon was harder on Bill than ever. More often than not, he and Fleur would simply crawl into bed early, and Fleur would gently stroke his arm until he fell asleep—usually with the help of a few potions. It took him about a day to recover now, not just a quick nap in the early afternoon.

Fleur was tidying in the kitchen after dinner as Bill was washing the dishes when it suddenly occurred to her that their fiftieth anniversary was less than a week away.

She hurried over to the calendar, lifting July's page to peer at August. And, to her horror, she saw a tiny silver circle on the first of the month. She turned to Bill, biting her lip.

"What's wrong?" he asked, frowning.

"Our—our annivairsairy," Fleur said softly. "Eet is on ze full moon."

"Oh," said Bill. "That's…that's not good."

Fleur shook her head. "Your parents wanted to 'ave zat party for us—Victoire 'as been planning for a month."

"No, no," Bill said quickly, coming over to her and putting on a big smile. "Don't worry about it, pretty girl. I'll just—well, I'll just take an extra potion, and we'll have a great night."

"Are you sure?" Fleur asked. "I don't want you to be in pain."

Bill smiled again, scars and wrinkles creasing his face, and he kissed her. "I'm not missing our anniversary because of a headache."

Fleur rolled her eyes. "Eet eez not just an 'eadache," she told him, putting her arms around his waist. "But thank you, chèr. I love you."

"I love you, too," Bill chuckled, embracing her tightly.

And true to his word, he was a good sport about the whole evening—Fleur brewed him pain potions, enough that he could last through the whole party with the family. It wasn't until very late into the evening, when Fleur spied Bill sitting in a corner with only their sleeping, one-year-old great-granddaughter for company that she knew it was time for them to go.

"Bill," she said gently, surprising him. Apolline was curled on his chest, sucking her thumb, and Fleur stroked her blond hair tenderly.

"Hi," Bill said, trying to smile, but he winced slightly. Fleur sat down on the little garden bench beside him, watching Teddy spin Lily out on the little dance floor Harry and Ron had put up for the party.

The rest of the family were milling around, laughing and chatting, and soft music poured from several large, floating lanterns that lit the entire garden.

Victoire smiled and waved at Bill and Fleur from where she sat with her grandmother. Molly had her arm around Victoire, laughing at a story Charlie was telling.

"Time to go?" Fleur asked.

Bill sighed heavily, looking around at his family with definite regret, but he looked back to Fleur and nodded. "I think so," he said, taking hold of Apolline and starting to get up.

"Let me," Fleur said gently, and she took the little girl from his arms. Carefully, so as not to wake her, she kissed Apolline and carried her over to Victoire, who smiled and took her granddaughter.

"Is Dad okay?" Victoire whispered, patting Apolline's back.

"'E will be fine," Fleur assured her, leaning over to kiss Molly goodbye. "Thank you for the lovely party, ma petite."

"Of course, Mum," said Victoire. "I'll drop by this week, all right?"

"Zat sounds wonderful," Fleur told her. "Molly, thank you so much."

"Oh, goodness, I'm nearly in the business of throwing these parties by now," Molly laughed, waving her hand. Fleur beamed. "You and Bill should come for dinner sometime soon." She eyed her eldest son, who was still sitting on the garden bench, watching the party. Molly took Fleur's hand. "Take care of him, dear."

"I will," Fleur promised. And, waving hurried goodbyes to everyone else who still remained, she went back to Bill. "Come along, chèr,"she said, helping him stand.

They left the garden gate and Apparated home. Fleur helped Bill up the stairs—he was even more tired now, it seemed—and got him into bed. When she had gotten another dose of potion to leave on his bedside table and crawled in beside him, he was sound asleep.

Fleur smiled, lying close to him and closing her eyes. "'Appy annivairsairy," she whispered in his ear.

"Happy anniversary, pretty girl," Bill answered, not opening his eyes. Fleur raised her head, gazing at him. Bill held up one arm, indicating the she should join him, and she wrapped herself around him. The full moon glimmered outside the window, pouring light across their bed, but when Fleur woke the next morning, Bill had still not touched the pain potion sitting beside him. She looked up at him, warm and comfortable as he rubbed her back and blinked sleepily, a contented smile on his face.

* * *

><p>OH! I didn't mention this earlier, but I ought to have done. There are going to be little threads and bits and odds and ends that appear here and there in different forms throughout these stories. Just like, a detail here or there that you'll start to recognize as we get farther in. Yeah! :) So enjoy!<p> 


	3. Audrey and Percy

8 April 2051

Percy and Audrey spent their fiftieth anniversary in Audrey's hospital room, with Molly and Lucy. Audrey had been ill for nearly six months by now, but in the last few weeks or so, it had gotten to the point where Percy couldn't care for her by himself.

Audrey was in excellent spirits, smiling and laughing. Anybody might have thought she'd just been in St. Mungo's for a quick stay, were it not for her pallor and rather emaciated appearance. That, and the absence of even Molly and Lucy's husbands and children. Their daughters seemed to know that Audrey would want this day for just the four of them.

"Tell us how you and Daddy met, Mum," Molly said, smiling at Audrey, who was propped up on pillows and holding Percy's hand tightly.

"Your favorite, ever since you were about five," Audrey laughed knowingly. She took a breath. "Well, my first day at the Ministry, I was going down a corridor, hurrying back to the Minister's office, when this red-haired man, completely absorbed—what were you reading, dear?"

Percy shrugged, shaking his head.

"Well, he knocked me down," she said, grinning at Percy.

"Only _nearly_," Percy said with a chuckle.

Audrey shook her head. "And then he looked down at me, very annoyed, and told me that I needed to get back to my desk if I expected to get anything done that day."

Molly and Lucy burst out laughing, and Audrey took a breath, meeting Percy's eyes and smiling. Percy lifted her hand to gently kiss her thin fingers.

"Sounds like you, Dad," Lucy teased, moving her chair closer to Audrey's bed.

"Well, she was causing an obstruction in a Ministry corridor," Percy joked, and Lucy laughed again. He looked up at Audrey. "Though I wasn't all that annoyed. I thought you were rather pretty."

"Oh, please," Audrey said, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. "We barely looked at each other for three months."

"Just because you didn't look at me doesn't mean I didn't see you," Percy told her in a dignified voice, and Audrey blushed faintly.

"Oh!" Molly cried suddenly, digging around in her pocket. "I got—where—oh, here. I got a note from the boys for you two," she said, handing an envelope to her mother. Audrey beamed.

"Here, Percy, will you open it?" she asked. Percy's eyes met hers only briefly as he took the letter. Audrey settled back as Percy adjusted his glasses and read the letter from their youngest grandsons, a fifth- and sixth-year at Hogwarts. "'Dear Gran and Granddad, happy anniversary. We're busy studying for exams, but things are going well here. It's only been a few weeks since Easter holiday, but we miss you. It'll be summer soon, though, and we can't wait to see you both.'" Percy's voice faltered slightly, but he passed it off as a slight cough, pretending not to notice the way Audrey's hand tightened on his. "'Happy anniversary again, love, Percy and Thomas.'"

Audrey swallowed a slight lump in her throat, smiling at Percy as he folded up the letter. "Oh, tell them thank you for me, sweetheart," she said, leaning forward and reaching for Molly's hand. "I'm excited to see them, too." Molly nodded, smiling, but she was seemingly unable to speak. Audrey sat back, feeling a little tired, but unwilling to say it. She looked at Lucy, who was staring into space. "Lucy darling, tell me how Anna is. Does she like France so far?"

Lucy started, then smiled. "Loves it," she said. "She'll be back at the end of the week for a short stay, so we'll definitely come by and say hello."

"Oh, good," Audrey said eagerly, lying back. She looked around at the three people she loved most and smiled. "Lucky me, all these visitors."

Percy, Molly, and Lucy chuckled, but Audrey could feel in each of their hearts exactly what she felt in her own, and that seemed to take the humor away.

Late that afternoon, Percy came back into the hospital room after seeing the girls out. Audrey, who was lying down, totally exhausted and dozing lightly, watched him through half-closed eyes as he sat down beside her and picked up his book.

"Mm," she murmured, holding out her hand. "Come here."

"What?" Percy asked.

With great effort, Audrey pushed herself to the edge of the bed that was farther from him, and patted the empty space. "Come here," she said. She was so small now that there was plenty of room for Percy to climb in beside her.

"Audrey, I don't think that's—"

"Percy," Audrey said, raising her head slightly and meeting his eyes.

Percy paused for a moment rather nervously, but got up and seated himself on the bed next to her. He smiled, putting his arm around Audrey and helping her to lie against his shoulder. She sighed a little uncomfortably and closed her eyes.

"I got you a present," Percy said quietly, and Audrey looked sleepily up at him.

"Oh, Perce," she said, and Percy shrugged. He reached into his pocket and withdrew something small and square. Audrey frowned, lifting her head slightly as Percy drew his wand and tapped it.

"_Engorgio_," he murmured, and the little flat square began to expand, larger and larger, until Audrey saw that it was a framed photograph. Molly, Lucy, their husbands, Charlie and Lysander, and all three of Percy and Audrey's grandchildren—Thomas, Percy, and Anna—were gathered around the Christmas tree in the Burrow. Audrey could see herself seated in the midst of them, laughing with Percy, who was hugging her tightly.

Audrey felt a lump rise in her throat, and touched Percy's face in the picture. "It's beautiful, Perce, thank you," she said softly, feeling a few tears burn in the corners of her eyes. "I'm glad we took this, it wouldn't look nearly so nice now," she joked.

Percy squeezed her shoulders. "You're beautiful all the time, Audrey." Audrey held up her left arm before their faces. She could see her wedding ring dangling from the fourth finger of her painfully thin hand and sighed. Percy caught her arm, pulling it back and kissing her fingers. "Audrey, all that matters right now is this. You and I together. Our family. Nothing else, all right?"

Audrey blinked several times before she looked up at him and beamed. "Happy anniversary, Percy. I love you."

"I love you too," Percy smiled. "Happy anniversary."

And with the same wild, fervent energy that had filled her the first time she'd ever kissed Percy Weasley, Audrey pulled him close, smiling as their lips met.


	4. Ginny and Harry

30 June 2053

Harry and Ginny's fiftieth anniversary was marred by an emergency trip to St. Mungo's. Unlike their usual visits—for Ginny's eye exams, or Harry's occasional scrape in some Auror activity or another before his retirement, or even one of their children or grandchildren, who proved as adept at getting into trouble as the rest of their family—Ginny was finding that she was having rather a difficult time restraining her laughter.

"You're habbing ad awf'ly good dime ober dere," Harry said, holding Arthur's handkerchief to his nose as he sat on the exam table.

Ginny stifled a snort of laughter behind her hand. "I'm sorry," she said sympathetically, clearly trying to repress a grin. "You just—you tried so hard." She got up and kissed Harry gently on the cheek. "I'm glad I got to see that, I have to be honest."

Harry chuckled slightly, then winced, and he adjusted the slightly bloodstained hanky. Ginny removed her spectacles, squinting slightly as she cleaned them and wiped away her tears of laughter. Before she could replace them, Harry touched her chin.

"I'b sorry I ruined our barty, Gin," he said, lowering the handkerchief and meeting her gaze. She smiled, still straining a bit to see without her glasses.

"You didn't ruin anything," Ginny promised him with a smile. "It was a wonderful thing for you to do, whether or not it worked. Now—" she replaced her glasses, blinking hard for a moment— "come here, so I can give you a kiss."

Harry grinned, leaning forward, and very gently Ginny pressed her lips softly to his. Then she straightened up, patting his leg, and smiled as the door opened.

"All right, Uncle Harry." Their niece, Molly, came over to the exam table, carrying a little tray of potions and gauze. Her Healer's robes were draped over the dress she'd been wearing for Harry and Ginny's party at the Burrow. "This is going to sting, but it'll heal by tomorrow morning." She took the bloody handkerchief from Harry and dabbed a bit of a thick, glutinous blue potion on a piece of gauze before touching it to the puncture marks on Harry's nose.

He winced, and Ginny patted his hand. After only a few minutes, Molly was finished. She smiled and picked up a large bandage.

"Do I really need that?" Harry asked, as she moved to place it across the bridge of his nose.

Molly smiled and looked at her aunt. "I think you do," she said. "You look like—"

"Like a gnome bit you on the nose," Ginny said helpfully, and Harry glared at her.

"All right, Molly, go on," he said, allowing Molly to put it over his wound. She smiled and straightened, clearing away her tray of medicines.

"I'm going to go take care of the file, and then we can go back to Gran's," she said, grinning at Harry and Ginny. "Maybe they saved us some cake."

Ginny laughed as Molly closed the door behind her and turned to Harry. "Feel better?"

Harry shook his head. "I feel stupid, that's what I feel."

"Oh, sweetheart," Ginny said, genuinely concerned. She put a hand to his dark gray hair, and he met her eyes. "Don't. Don't feel bad. It was so sweet of you. And now my mother thinks you're even more of a hero, she can't stand those stupid gnomes."

Harry grinned. "Well, we didn't want it to get away with your present," he said. "And Stunning worked that one Christmas—remember? Fred and George and Ron and I stuck that one on top of the tree?"

Ginny threw her head back, laughing. "Oh, no, I'd forgotten about that!" she said. "I guess George and Ron were feeling a little nostalgic this evening, too. Though I notice neither of them are here getting their faces patched up."

Harry chuckled. "Well, it _did_ work then. I just missed, this time."

"Missed," Ginny scoffed, shaking her head. "You know, Harry _dearest_, I don't know if I mentioned this, but the three of you aren't sixteen, you're seventy, and you're mad old codgers for picking a fight with a gnome," she informed him.

Harry raised his eyebrows, feigning offense. "Codger?" he asked. "Maybe you shouldn't get the gift I just rescued from the jaws of certain doom for you." He touched his nose nonchalantly as he helped Ginny up onto the table beside him.

"You got it back?" Ginny asked in gentle surprise. "Oh, Harry," she said, kissing him.

Harry grinned. "You got me the watch to replace Fabian's," he said, shrugging slightly. The watch he'd received from Molly and Arthur on his seventeenth birthday had, after years of repeated magical repairs, had finally given out a few months ago. "I wanted to get you this." He withdrew a rather crumpled box from his pocket. The wrapping paper was hanging off of it, and there was evidence on one corner of more gnawing by the pilfering gnome.

"Happy anniversary, Gin," said Harry, kissing her forehead.

Ginny smiled, taking the gift. She pulled off what remained of the wrapping paper and lifted aside the lid. Inside was another, smaller box. It was lacquered, and its glossy top bore an embossed Gryffindor crest, glinting with miniscule rubies and topazes the size of pinheads.

"Harry," she said softly. "It's beautiful."

"Hopefully it still works," Harry commented. Ginny frowned.

"Still works?" she asked.

Harry grinned, drew his wand, and tapped the lid of the box in Ginny's palm three times. It creaked open slowly. It was completely empty but for a shiny gold bit of machinery like the inside of a clock. As soon as it opened fully, the clockwork began moving, and a very soft tune began to play.

"What is—oh," Ginny said, putting one hand to her mouth and meeting Harry's eyes. "Harry, that's—that's the song—"

"Gabrielle sang it," Harry nodded. "At our wedding."

Ginny stared at him openmouthed as the song finished and the lid closed itself gently. She looked at Harry, pressing her lips together as her chin trembled.

"I am _not_—supposed—to cry—Harry Potter," she said, gently shoving his shoulder and blinking furiously, torn between tears and laughter.

Harry laughed, pulling Ginny in for a hug. He kissed her cheek, and she rested her forehead against his shoulder, taking a moment to close her eyes and breathe. They'd received the news almost nine years ago that Ginny was slowly but surely losing her sight. At the time, they'd been told she had five to seven years before it finally happened; they had gotten very lucky, and they both knew it.

"I love you," Harry told her.

"I love you too," said Ginny, looking up to meet his gaze, raising her eyebrows. Not for the first time in their marriage, Harry wondered if she knew exactly what he was thinking. He was right.

"Not right now, okay?" she asked, giving him a smile. "Not today."

"You've got it," Harry said, taking the music box from her hand and putting it back in its package. "Happy anniversary, Gin."

"Happy anniversary," Ginny laughed, giving him a tight hug.

"All right, you're all sorted out, Uncle Harry," said Molly as she opened the door, shrugging off her St. Mungo's robes. Harry and Ginny got down from the table.

"Let's see if they really did wait for us to cut the cake," Harry said.

"So optimistic," Ginny said in a pitying tone to Molly, who laughed.

* * *

><p>Glad you guys are liking this! :)<p> 


	5. Hermione and Ron

1 January 2055

Hermione woke suddenly with a sharp pain in her neck. She gave a little groan, rubbing the sore spot that had somehow found its way all down her back. After a moment, the pain subsided, and she reached for her glasses, put them on, and turned her head to look for Ron. He wasn't beside her. Hermione frowned, sitting up slowly and rubbing her back as she straightened. Outside the windows, she could see huge drifts of snow all across the lawn and the neighboring houses. Everyone was sleeping late on New Year's Day. She smiled.

A little stiff from the late night at Harry and Ginny's house, Hermione got out of bed and reached for her robe, pulling it comfortably over her shoulders and rubbing her eye sleepily. She put on her slippers and went downstairs, looking for Ron.

"Good morning," she said happily, coming into the kitchen. She froze. Ron was not there. Hermione did a double take—was he in the sitting room? Did she walk right past him and not even notice? "Ron?" she called, listening for even the slightest sound of his presence—a shuffle in the hall upstairs, anything. "Ron, where are you?"

Hermione went to stand in the middle of the living room, looking all around. "Ron!" she called, a little louder this time. She was nervous—Ron would never leave in the middle of the night without telling her. She clutched her robe tighter about herself, biting her lip.

Was he upstairs somewhere? Had he hurt himself?

With a sudden, horrible lurch of her heart, Hermione hurried up the stairs. She made it nearly all the way before she heard an odd snuffling sound, coming from the living room. She paused and turned on the stairs, one hand on the banister and the other going straight to the pocket of her robe, closing tightly around her wand.

"Who's there?" Hermione demanded sharply. There was no answer. "Ron, if that's you, I swear—" And the sound came again. It sounded like a stifled—giggle?

Hermione closed her eyes, shaking her head, and smiled. She came tiptoeing back down the stairs. "_Come with me, and we'll be in a world of pure imagination_," she sang, grinning as she came closer to her own armchair by the fireplace. "_Take a look and you'll see into your_…hmm…I wonder what that word is…I wish I could remember," she said thoughtfully.

There was a sudden gasp, and Hermione grinned as a little head of curly brown hair and two bright blue eyes popped up behind the arm of the chair.

"A-maginayshun!" shrieked the little girl, scurrying out from behind the chair and seizing Hermione about the hips, beaming up at her. "A-maginayshun, Nana!"

Hermione heard a chorus of groans, seemingly emanating from the furniture, and laughed.

"Hermione, baby, you didn't say surprise," whispered a voice in the bookshelf that sounded suspiciously like Rose's. Little Hermione's eyes popped wide open and she scrambled away from her grandmother, ducking back into her hiding spot. A moment later, she remerged, hopping to her feet, her hands high in the air.

"Sur-pise!" she cried, positively beaming, and Hermione laughed again, holding her sides as, with several loud pops, Disillusionment Charms lifted. Ron, Rose, Scorpius, Hugo, Alice, and all five of Ron's and Hermione's remaining grandchildren—who were all much older than the youngest—appeared, laughing and grinning.

"Happy ammaversity," said little Hermione to her grandmother, and Hermione bent, scooping her up and giving her a big kiss.

"Happy anniversary, Mum," said Rose, tickling her daughter's cheek and giving Hermione a squeeze. Scorpius followed her.

"We're going to have to figure out this whole surprise thing sometime, miss," he said teasingly to little Hermione, giving his mother-in-law a kiss on the cheek.

"She'll get the hang of it," laughed sixteen-year-old Katharine, patting her little sister's back. "Happy anniversary, Nana."

"Thank you, sweetheart," Hermione beamed, embracing Jean, Rose's oldest daughter. She paused. "I—now, wait a moment, where's Georgie?"

"He's here—come on, George—" Jean nudged her younger brother forward.

"Hi, Nana," he said looking as uncomfortable as a twelve-year-old boy could possibly be at this time of the morning on his grandparents' anniversary. "Happy anniversary," he mumbled. Hermione ruffled his bright red hair, reminded very strongly, as she always was, of Ron at that age.

"How do you always figure out when I'm going to surprise you?" Ron lamented, coming forward and kissing her. Hermione smiled.

"I had a little help, this time," she said, winking at little Hermione, who blushed and giggled in her arms.

"Aha! A spy!" Ron cried, scooping the little girl away from Hermione. She let out a peal of laughter as Ron dangled her over his shoulder.

"You're all here so early!" Hermione cried, embracing Alice and Hugo together before their seventeen-year-old daughter, Julia, put an arm around her waist, beaming. "Oh, Frank, come here, sweetheart—" she kissed Julia's older brother, who grinned at her. "Well, come in the kitchen! I'll make breakfast—what do we all want? Oh, Ron, can you get the extra chairs from—"

"Hermione—Hermione, freeze," said Ron, releasing his giggling granddaughter to Katharine. He laid his hands on Hermione's shoulders as she stood before the doorway to the kitchen. "_We_ made breakfast," he told her, gesturing to their family.

"You did?" Hermione asked, smiling at them all. "That was so sweet—oh, thank you," she said, embracing Ron tightly. He patted her back.

"Come on, let me show you what I made," he said, pulling her by the hand into the kitchen. Hermione looked back at the others, who were all smirking and chuckling.

"What are you—"

"Bon appétit, Hermione," Ron said happily, and Hermione looked at the counter where he pointed.

Half of a banana, still in its peel, sat on the countertop.

Hermione put a hand to her chest, feeling her chin tremble, and she looked at Ron, trying not to tear up. "You remembered," she said with a little laugh.

"Always the tone of surprise," Ron joked, and Hermione laughed, feeling a tear slide down her cheek. Ron shook his head, affronted. "Do I remember how I proposed to my wife…Ha! Well, go on, then," he said, nodding to the banana with an air of feigned detachment.

"Go—go on?" Hermione asked, as she felt her four-year-old granddaughter clamp onto her leg.

"Open the present, Nana!" the little girl said eagerly, and George quickly put a hand over his little sister's mouth.

Ron laughed, nodding toward the banana. "Take a look, Hermione," he said, smiling. Hermione looked over her shoulder at her family, who were all looking excited and encouraging.

Hermione took a step forward, carefully lifting back the banana peel.

"Oh, _Ron_," she said softly.

A beautiful ring sat on the inside of the peel, studded all the way around with two bands of alternating, positively miniscule aquamarines and sapphires. Hermione sighed, looking at Ron.

"Fifty stones," he said, picking it up and showing her. "For fifty years. I'll get you another one of these when we make it to a hundred," he joked, and Hermione laughed as he placed the ring on her hand, snugly beside her wedding ring. "Happy anniversary, Hermione."

"Happy anniversary," she answered, putting her arms around his waist and giving him a kiss. "I love you."

"Yuck!" shrieked little Hermione, and Katharine laughed, bending to pick up her sister.

Jean stepped forward. "We really are going to make breakfast, though, Nana, so let us—George, don't you bolt for that door, I saw that—let _us_ handle it—grown-ups in the living room!" she said. "Only kids in the kitchen today!"

"Said the twenty-year-old," muttered Frank good-naturedly.

"You're twenty-two and you still act like a kid," Julia informed him.

"Come on, Nana, Granddad, we'll take care of breakfast," Katharine said, still holding little Hermione on her hip. Ron put his arm around Hermione, lifting his eyebrows as they followed Rose, Scorpius, Hugo, and Alice.

"I knew there was a reason we had kids," he said, and Hermione laughed, glancing back at her grandchildren, who had promptly begun to open every cupboard in the kitchen. Little Hermione had been placed on a countertop, watching her siblings and cousins with great interest as she munched on the half of banana Ron had left on the counter.

Hermione slipped her arm tighter around Ron's waist and kissed his cheek. "I love you, Ron Weasley. Happy anniversary," she said quietly.

Ron chuckled. "I love you too. Happy fortieth annual tenth anniversary."

"Good answer," Hermione told him, laughing again and hugging him tight.


	6. Angelina and George

19 May 2056

Angelina wiped her cheeks with her handkerchief and sniffed as George came into their sitting room, looking equally morose and carrying a tea tray.

"Hell of a way to spend our anniversary," he said glumly, setting the tray down on the table. He sat down on the sofa next to Angelina, and she rested her head against him.

"I miss her," she said tearfully. "I miss her—_so much_—and it hasn't even been—" Angelina gave a little sob, burying her face in her handkerchief.

George sighed heavily. "I know, Ange," he said. "I miss her too."

"Poor Oliver," Angelina said after a moment, drying her face again. "I can't even begin to imagine—they were married even longer than us. What's he going to do without Alicia?" It was early evening, just about nightfall, and they had just returned from spending the entire day with Oliver Wood, who had Flooed early in the morning to tell them that Alicia, after a long sickness, had died during the night.

George shook his head. "I don't know. At least—at least he got to be with her, though. And she hasn't really been that well for a long time, has she?"

Angelina nodded. "She wasn't really the same after she had Alivia," she mused. "I—I guess it's better that she's not in pain anymore, but…Merlin, George, I don't think I could go through what Oliver is." She sat up slightly, fixing George with a firm stare over her spectacles. "I get to go first, all right?"

George gave a little snort. "Age before beauty, my dearest wife," he said, and Angelina actually cracked a small smile.

"You're never going to let those six months go, are you?" she asked, shaking her head.

"It's an entire half-year where I am basking in the glory of not being as old as you," George said, in a tone that plainly said he would be a fool to give up this triumph.

Angelina chuckled a little dully, sitting back against George's chest again. "Really, though—don't leave me all alone, all right?" she asked.

"Ange," George said softly. He hugged her shoulder a bit tighter. "I'll never leave you. I like you too much to do that to you."

Angelina looked up at him, her brown eyes a little watery. "I like you too, I guess," she told him with a trace of a smile.

"Besides," George added thoughtfully, "if you ever tried to leave me, I'd probably just go with you."

Angelina nodded again, hugging him tightly and kissing the spot above his missing ear. "Happy anniversary, sweetheart. I'm sorry it's been so down."

"Eh, who cares about fifty years—everyone in my family's done it—well, except Charlie, but he's completely barmy," said George. Angelina shoved him, shaking her head. "I say we shoot for a hundred and fifty, _then_ we'll throw a party."

"Sounds good to me," Angelina said, grinning.

George smiled back. "There she is," he said, touching her chin, and she smiled a bit more. "Happy anniversary, Ange."

Angelina kissed him, and they both relaxed into the sofa again, their tea tray sitting forgotten. George was just starting to doze off when Angelina began to sniffle again.

"I'm sorry," she said, quickly wiping her tears away. "I just—I can't stop thinking about Alicia. I—should've gone to see her yesterday, and I—I didn't—"

"Okay," George said softly, rubbing her arm. "All right. Shh, shh, it's okay, Ange. Alicia knew how much you cared. You were her best friend for ages. She—" his voice broke slightly, thinking of how ill Alicia had been, but how happy she always was to see them, right to the end. "She went the way she thought she should. That doesn't mean you did anything wrong."

Angelina sniffled quietly into George's chest for quite some time, before George finally spoke again. "I have an idea," he said. "I think it'd be good for us."

Angelina raised her head, frowning slightly. "What would be good for us?"

"Give me fifteen minutes," George told her, getting up and hurrying from the room.

* * *

><p>"On three, okay?" George said as Angelina drew her wand and nodded. "Ready…one, two—three!"<p>

Angelina tapped the fuse, and immediately the fireworks rocketed into the air, igniting with bright colors and tremendous bangs. She felt George put his arm around her, and they lay back rather stiffly together onto the blanket and pillows they had brought with them to Stoatshead Hill, not far from the Burrow.

"I always think the classic Wildfires are the best," Angelina said.

"Yeah, well, who wouldn't?" George asked. "That was the best product debut we ever gave."

Angelina turned her gaze away from the spiraling dragons and glittery silvery clouds to watch George's outline. Lit by a sudden burst of brilliant pink from a cloud of winged horses, George turned his head to look at her.

"For Alicia, right?" he said, giving a half-nod to the spectacle over head.

"Right," she said. "Alicia." Silence fell, and they both gazed up at the sky.

"Do you know what I love most about you?" George asked after a few minutes, as two green spirals collided and turned bright violet. Angelina looked at him and smiled gently. "I love…that we spent our fiftieth anniversary on someone we care about, instead of ourselves, and that you're completely all right with that."

Angelina smiled slightly, hugging George and kissing his cheek, when suddenly, she felt a rather sharp pain in her back. "Er—George," she said softly, as she moved painfully to lie flat beside him, screwing up her face in pain when she twisted badly. "Georgie," she said again.

"I also love that you're old as the hills and still like to set off fireworks with me," George added conversationally, and Angelina gave a slight whimper. "Ange?" George asked, lifting himself off the blanket to look down at her. Angelina lay flat, very obviously pretending to be enthralled by the fireworks. George took a deep breath, pressing his lips together, and tried to put a concerned, sympathetic expression on his face. "You put your back out again, didn't you?"

"Old as the hills, my arse, George Weasley," she said in a strangled voice. "Now give me your hand and help me up."

"Always," George said, leaning over her and giving Angelina a gentle kiss. She smiled, trying not to look as though she were in too much pain. "I love you, Angelina."

"Love you too," she said. "Really. Can you get me on my feet now?" George chuckled. With a great deal of effort, he helped Angelina get up, rubbing her back in pain. George put an arm around her, waving his wand so that their blanket and pillows soared neatly into their magically expanded picnic basket.

"Don't you dare tell Roxy _or_ Fred about this," Angelina said, holding her back as she limped slowly, with George's help, down the hill a short ways to Disapparate. George laughed.

They stopped walking as their last sparkling dragon twisted through the sky above them. George looked sideways at her, his arm still supporting her around her waist. "Happy anniversary, Angelina," he said, grinning.

Angelina smiled. Very gently—and she was the only person whom George allowed to do this—she reached forward and very softly touched the white scars around his missing ear.

"Happy anniversary, George," she said. George met her gaze, and they kissed warmly, just as their dragon burst into an enormous cloud of red.

* * *

><p>All done! :D SNUGGLES FOR EVERYBODY! *opens arms for snuggles*<p> 


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